


Sorcerer

by animefreak



Category: UFO | Gerry Anderson's UFO
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M, Parallel Universes, psychopathic behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animefreak/pseuds/animefreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Ed Straker witnessed the death of his mother at the hands of a fanatic. Forty years later, he faces that he is different. Can he save the two worlds that now depend on him? The one with aliens and the one with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sorcerer 1/?

Eodearas stood on the pinnacle of his citadel and screamed his defiance of the council. He summoned fire and great balls of plasma to destroy those gathered below him. Metal armor melted under his onslaught sending his enemies to screaming death as they burned, superheated air searing their lungs shut in a fraction of a second. Eodearas laughed, his long silver white hair fanning out on the forces he held to him. A storm gathered above him and he pulled that energy into his destruction as well. 

“Husband.” Merry called to him, her voice soft and seductive. 

“What?” he demanded his voice booming and harsh above the crackle of doom. 

“I bring a gift, oh mightiest of Magekind.”

A gift? Did she think to bed him with the cleft of her body? Foolish woman. “What gift? Your daughter?” Bitch. The girl was already his, swelling with the get of his dread lord. 

She tossed something at him. As he batted it away, his blue eyes blazed with anger. Jonara's head bounced across the stone to land staring sightlessly into the sky. Jonara, slain by her own mother. Merry then threw the bloodied blade at him. Only blood of his blood could break his shields. Power sluiced away from him as he tried to dodge the sword. His foot slipped in Jon's blood and he fell, plummeting to the earth like a fallen star.

In the darkness, as they stripped him screaming of all magic, he found the one thing he had not imagined. Glowing faintly in the black of his prison, a lifeline. Blood of his blood, he grabbed onto the line and followed it to … the Barrier Between Worlds.

He stared at the Barrier, the Opaque Wall that defined the boundaries of his world. The line in his hand passed through it.

>>>>>

Ed Straker, Commander in Chief of SHADO, awoke from clouded dreams shivering as with fever. The moon shining in the windows was full, lighting the sky and throwing shadows. Fear gripped his heart as it had never done before, or, perhaps, only once before, when he was too late to save his son.

If there was one thing he wished he could undo in his life … He sank back into sleep, restless and afraid.

>>>>>>>

Merry Strakerius, daughter of the Nightingale and soon to be consort of Gael of Rutland Mohr, stared at the body of her first consort. Freed of his gaeus, she marveled at how innocent he looked, his nearly white mane floating around him, his body relaxed. Nothing of his insanity showed now, stripped of power and life. 

Wait. His chest rose and fell in shallow respiration. With a scream, Merry drew dagger and launched herself at this cause of all the horrors in her life. She rebounded from an invisible wall and fell to the stone floor sobbing and screaming.

“Why is he alive??!” She gained her feet, summoning lurid red flames to her hands. “Why?” she screamed again.

Alaric Freedman stepped forward. If anyone deserved to die at Merry's hands it was he. Bewitched by Eodearas, he had brought the woman to his friend and stood by as she was abused. He then brought Jonara, Merry’s daughter, to her own father to be given to the dark god Eodearas worshipped. Jonara was barely twelve. Yet he could not stop any more than he could walk away from the horror his friend had become. 

“We cannot finish him. Look.” He made the symbol of revealing with his hand. A thin golden thread looped around Eodearas' left wrist, the end plunging into his wrist, the line running across the hall, out the window and on until it vanished in the hazy distance. 

“So? He has tied himself to someone. They are better off dead.” Her pale eyes flared with power as she released the flame and scooped up the dagger again. 

A shy, dark haired young man eased forward then. She recognized him as the one known only as the Fordkeeper. “It passes through the Barrier.” His gentle voice seemed to suck all the air from the hall. No one knew exactly what lay beyond the Barrier, only that magic lay in these lands and not those beyond. To kill Eodearas was to kill whoever he linked to on the other side. To kill an Other was to die a horrible death here.

Robbed of her rightful prey, Merry's blade slashed Alaric's face to the bone, narrowly missing his right eye. He stood, stone still, letting her anger and hate wash over him. Gods knew he deserved it. But most of the rest here were victims, just as Merry was. Let him die for his sins, not them.

“Bind his wound,” Merry ordered, her voice shaking. She wiped off her blade and sheathed it. In her heart, she knew Alaric was as much a toy as any of them. He'd only figured it out much later than the rest. 

“Find a way to break that binding,” she got out before collapsed weeping into Gael's arms. As sinister looking as Eodearas was fair to look upon, the glow in his eyes bespoke tenderness and caring for his betrothed as he swept her into his arms and vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

Sorcerer 2/?

Binding a servant body was usually quite easy for Eodearas. So very few had the sheer power and will that he had. It took him a few minutes to realize that stripped of his magic, things were not as simple as they had been. Sullen, he found a niche in his victim's mind to settle into, to watch and wait for his time.

>>>>

Straker stretched lazily before sliding out of bed and into his slippers. He took a moment to enjoy the early morning silence and the soft texture of the sheepskin lining of his footwear before moving into the bathroom for his usual early morning ablutions. Freshly shaved and hair combed, he was ready to get dressed. He surveyed his wardrobe and opted for a deep navy suit coupled with a dazzling white turtle neck shirt beneath the vest. His fingers fumbled with the zippered closing of the pants, nipping a finger tip. Maybe he should have slept a little longer; he was feeling clumsy, as though he wasn't quite fitting into his own body. 

Foolish idea that. He grabbed his wallet and keys to head out to the car. His car. He let his eyes rove over the slick clean lines of the aerodynamic shape. How long had he driven this beauty? Quite a while, yet he felt no urge to change her out for something more modern. Hers was a striking look, quite in keeping with his high profile image as a movie producer. He nodded slightly and slipped into the driver's seat, moving smoothly through the motions of starting the car and easing her down the driveway to merge into traffic. A small smile accompanied that thought. This was such a quiet neighborhood; there was little traffic at any time of day. If they only knew who lived in their midst.

That prickling feeling as of hairs rising on the back of his neck caught him unawares as he pulled up to a stop sign. Why had he been thinking that way, almost as if he wished his neighbors to find out, to be afraid of him and what he represented? He shook his head and finished the drive to the studio deep in thought, his reflexes taking over the duties of getting him there in one piece. 

Straker walked through the administration building of Harlington-Straker Studios, acknowledging those who greeted him with a sedate nod or a word of greeting in return. Alec Freeman, his right hand both here and in the installation below the studios, waved to him before returning to the lovely brunette on his arm. For a moment, he questioned Paul Foster's absence before recalling that Paul was en route to Moonbase for a few weeks. 

He stopped at Miss Ealand's desk, picking up his scheduled appointments for the day and noted how lovely the woman was before continuing into his office. The first few meetings were with producers, a director and an actress who seemed to think he could do something about how little she was being paid to star in a film. He reviewed the file on the film and determined that as an independent production using HS sound stages, there was nothing he could do. However, he did promise to take a look at the dailies and see if he could seriously recommend a change to her production company. 

“Since they are not a part of the Studio,” he finished up, “there's really not anything I can do to immediately affect your contract. I'll talk to Joseph and see if there is any way to improve things for you.”

She wasn't happy with the answer, but she was calmer and could see his logic. “Thank you. I just … That little slut making twice what I am for half the work … Sorry. Thank you.”

Slut? Ed looked over the file again. Oh yes, the director's current girlfriend. That would probably qualify her in Desiree's eyes as a slut. He'd have Alec look into that and see if there were grounds for talking to Joseph Blanton, the primary investor. The rest of the day passed without any major issues to be resolved either in the studio or in SHADO HQ. The aliens were mercifully silent and productions were on time and on budget. 

Alec talked his friend and commanding officer into taking dinner with him at a small restaurant where they were well known. They parted company with an admonishment from Alec to get some rest. “It's not often we get the down time,” he said with a smile.

“No, no it's not,” Ed agreed, a faint smile playing around his lips. “I think I'll do just that,” he agreed. 

Bed before the wee hours of the morning was an almost forgotten concept. Straker was so used to working on half the sleep he needed that he lay in the comfort of his bed for half an hour before finally drifting off. 

Ed was vaguely aware that something was off about his dreams. Normally the Technicolor was reserved for nightmares; losing Johnny, Mary falling down the stairs, aliens taking him prisoner. He felt more like a spectator than a participant this time. The world was different in this dream, he could see things in the land, in people; electric lines of blue, yellow, green and even black. 

He stood on a tower in a storm, great black clouds billowing and roiling about in the sky above him. He could feel the surge of energy in the storm and then behind him. Mary. Of course. She screamed at him, her words blown away by the rising winds. John was dead … by her hand? What? He looked down at the head she'd thrown at him. Memories of … No! A part of him responded with pleasure at the thoughts crowded into his head, of abusing a ... a child? A girl child of his and … With a shriek he grabbed his head, pain flickering through him as though the lightning and he had become one.

Ed sat up with a scream dying in his throat, sweat covering his body and runneling down his skin to pool on the sheet. Shaking, he got up and went into the bathroom, thinking to shower off the sweat. He caught his reflection in the mirror, eyes so blue, blazing in his face. He could almost feel a serpentine uncoiling inside. Mary's face in his dream flickered in his mind, then her garb covering the body he had once yearned for. 

He struggled to steady his breathing. When had it become so ragged, so hard to suck air into his lungs? Mary, golden hair falling down her back to her waist? A silken gown caught just under her breasts and hatred glaring in her eyes. Why did his mind do this? The vision felt more like memory than nightmare. Other images crowded into his mind. Taking her the first night they met, her whimper of pain as he … 

Straker shook his head in denial. That never happened. Mary had come gladly to his bed. Foolish memories of their first night together seeped up, replacing the nightmare. Neither of them had been innocents when they met, but the heights to which they took each other were unlike any they'd experienced before. All right, he couldn't speak for Mary, but at the time, she had seemed happy, fulfilled and quite satisfied with her explorations as well as his. 

He realized he was sitting with his back against the bathtub, the cool porcelain helping to bring him back into focus. He worked on breathing, just getting air into and out of his lungs in a regular fashion. When was the last time he took leave? God, it was going to be hard to face Jackson and Alec to let them know he actually needed some time to himself. With a sigh, he got to his feet and stepped into the tub, turning on the shower and settling into the stream of tepid water. After a few minutes, he added more hot and soaped up, washing away the stench of fear and his dreams as he did so. When he emerged to towel off, he felt better. The dream memories had receded, dim things to trouble him only while he slept.

>>>>>>

Eodearas slid out of the slave's mind and into the golden thread connecting them. Never had he met such a strong will in one without power. He examined the dolt's reactions to their mixing of memories. How could he not find pleasure in using those less than he? To bend or break another to one's will that was the greatest victory of all. Merry, was a means to an end, the binding of her bloodline to his, the creation of the sacrifice to give his lord a foothold in the world, to again spread his worship in blood and pain until the world ran red and madness ruled. There was no other proper way for a world of power to be run.

And now all for naught. The bitch's child lay dead at her own hands. That must tear at her, he thought with satisfaction, though in truth he wished he had his consort in his hands to use again. The memory of the feel of her flesh quivering under him was almost enough to send him back to his useless body to find a way to have her now, fighting and losing to his superior strength. But not quite enough. He was here now, and the slave had power of a sort in this world. He also sensed a flickering of something more, deeply buried. Magic “did not exist” in this world. Foolish concept. If it did not exist, then he, Eodearas Strakerius would create it and bend this world to his bidding. It didn't quite occur to him that only a god could create something that did not exist.


	3. Chapter 3

3 – 

Straker awoke just after sunrise feeling as though he'd been beaten with sticks, or maybe fists and feet all night. Visions he only partially understood remained with him as he hit the shower and leaned back against the wall letting the water run down his tired body. He didn't want to crawl back into bed; he just wanted to get some sleep. Only he was fairly certain that the minute he closed his eyes, the dreams would be back. 

He got out, toweled off and stared into the face of a stranger in the mirror. Oh, it was his face, but his eyes looked sunken, tired, worn out. He shaved carefully and combed his hair. He still looked like he'd been rode hard and put away wet, as the saying went. He called Dr. Jackson before brewing his morning coffee. 

“Commander …?” Jackson sounded surprised. 

“Yes. I need to see you when I get in. Clear your appointments.”

“Certainly, Commander. I will be ready when you arrive.” 

Straker could just see the look on Jackson's face in his mind: curious, concerned and wondering just what was up. He sat back in the chair and then jerked up out of it as his eyes drifted closed. No. Not until he was at SHADO. Not until he was … safe. What a laugh.

The drive to work was uneventful. He was even feeling a little more like himself by the time he arrived, but still tired. He checked in with his secretary and proceeded to his office, downstairs and to Dr. Jackson's office without really checking in with anyone else, including Alec Freeman. 

Jackson rose from his seat as Straker entered his office. “Commander. Please, have a seat.” The questions were all over his face, but he waited for Ed to start.

Straker sat and then couldn't figure out where to start. 

“You wanted to talk to me, sir?”

“I think you and Alec may be right about my needing some time off,” he dove in without preamble. “It's been quiet the last week and it seems that maybe the stresses of the last few months have caught up with me.” The blue eyes slid away from direct contact with Jackson's dark gaze. 

“Would you object if I ran a few tests first, sir? It might be best to make certain there isn't anything more than just being tired.”

This was exactly what he'd worried about. He hated taking tests. Ed considered refusing, but he knew that the doctor was in the right, so he nodded and submitted to Jackson's explorations. Half an hour later, blood work and other tests ordered he put up with Jackson's questions as to his mental state. Apparently his answers were not indicative of imminent breakdown and Jackson sent him on his way to a week's rest away from the studio and SHADO.

Ed caught Alec on the way back in to the office. “Alec. Need to see you, now.”

“Where were you?” Alec asked curiously.

“Seeing Jackson. I'm taking a few days off. You're in command. Try to keep Foster in line while I'm gone.”

“Gone? Where are you going?”

“Don't worry, Alec. I'm just taking a few days off.”

“Ed,” there was no brooking that tone. Straker looked up at his second in command. “What's really going on?”

Straker leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “I think the let up from the aliens has given my body the chance to tell me how badly I abuse it. You and Jackson are always at me about taking time off. I’m taking some time off.” Explaining about nightmares you didn’t understand would not help here. Much as he appreciated Alec’s concerns, his odd fears were not the kind to be reassuring. Therefore, Alec would not hear about them. “Call me if something blows up. Otherwise, I think it’s time for you and Paul to see if you can work together without me breathing down your necks.” He held up a hand to forestall Alec’s objections, if any. “If we can’t survive a few days of my absence, what happens when time or the aliens or an accident catches up with me?”

“Dammit, Ed.” Alec didn’t argue and stopped asking questions, but he didn’t have to like it. 

Paul, on Moonbase, actually took the news well. “So, he needs rest. The rest of us get it whether we like it or not. Straker’s the only one who doesn’t have to follow medical orders. Time he did. Things are still quiet. With our luck, all hell will break loose the day he comes back. Even the aliens take time to plan things. We’re running drills tomorrow and the day after. If we don’t answer the com, we may be in blackout or power down simulations. We’ll answer as soon as we can.”

“All right.” Freeman signed off and scowled at the control room, looking for anything out of place or out of order. Nothing.

Instead of going home, Ed pointed his car east as he left the studio and just drove. His mind was still in turmoil after the nightmares of last night. There was something about the dreams, as though he was looking at someone else’s memories, yet they felt like his and that frightened him. Jackson believed he just needed some time away from SHADO, but he wasn’t certain. He wasn’t certain at all. 

Grace Kellogg and her partner, Dwayne Stolz, followed their boss at a discreet distance. Jackson felt there was something up and they were not inclined to argue with him. Demotion for arguing with el creepizoid was not high on Grace’s list of things to do. Lucky the Commander drove such a distinctive vehicle. 

Straker found a park with ancient trees and a lovely view. There was even an old fashioned fish and chips vendor wending her way through the park. He found a bench and sat on it in the sun, letting the warmth of the day soak into him as he watched young mothers and children move through the park.

Warmth. Sunshine. Freedom. Eodearas reveled in the sensations pouring through his slave. He eyed the young women in their un-self-consciously alluring garb; shirts that clung to their torsos and leggings that hid nothing from a discerning eye. As to the children, well, they had their uses. Sweet memories of twisting small bodies to his desires came unbidden followed swiftly by the nauseating wrench of the slave reasserting his control over his mind and body. A wall slammed between Eodearas and his slave. The Mage screamed in impotent rage, clawing at the iron wall. Sparks flew where he touched the barrier. So, the bastard knew something of magic after all. Eodearas settled in to wait. Sooner or later, the slave would have to sleep.

Ed sat on the bench wondering if his mind was indeed going. The thoughts watching the children playing in the park had brought to him were horrific, terrifying. He was afraid to move, afraid the thoughts would return, causing him to act. The last thing he wanted to do was become anything like the person whose memories he … was … sharing? Fear held him still. Had the aliens at last succeeded in getting to him? Was this some insane plot to make him fear himself? To make him crumble and lose his mind so that they could claim … claim what? Why would the aliens take this path? How could they know that harming a child was anathema to him when so many of them were the additional victims of the alien marauding? The aliens had shown no understanding of the parent/child paradigm among humans, although they had used the caring between adults to manipulate them. 

What was wrong with him?

Carefully, he returned to his car and started the drive home, his mind full of questions he could not answer; questions he had no intention of sharing with anyone. He passed a McDonald’s and for no reason he could later assign, turned around and went back to the restaurant. Normally, he would live on coffee until he could get real food. He almost chuckled at that thought. There were people for whom hamburgers, French fries and a soda were real food, or as close to it as they would get in the near future. He used the drive through and ordered a “combo meal” which he took home to eat.

Odd, the meal wasn’t as greasy or bad as he had expected. Maybe he’d simply figured out the right one to order. The cold soda tasted good, felt good as it slammed down his throat and chilled him from the inside out. The French fries, still hot and salty, were a far cry from the chips the English knew. Not that chips were bad, just different. Ed found he understood why his countrymen had been so easily seduced to the fast food craze. The meal was filling, tasty and not as expensive as a meal at a restaurant as he knew them. He wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon, but it was informative. 

It was barely afternoon, but he felt full and tired. Well, he was supposed to be resting; perhaps he should do exactly that: rest. His bedroom was cool and dark, the blinds and curtains still closed. He pulled off his jacket and shoes, hanging up the former and placing the latter neatly on the closet floor before stretching out on the bed, on top of the down comforter. He passed from awake to sleep almost immediately. 

Eodearas stretched behind the wall and was unsurprised to see it melt away, vanishing to allow him access to the slave’s mind. Angry, he stormed into the dreams of his new body and smashed what he found there. What were these strange silver spinning things? Nothing! He raged at them, throwing bolts of energy at them … or trying. With a snarl, he threw himself on the red clad beings and killed them with blades, with thoughts. Only when he was through with the first four did he stop and see the killers for what they were. They slaughtered as they wished and stole from those who died; not things, not wealth, but their insides. They honored the old gods as did he! Perhaps these beings could be of use to him.

He spotted the dream self of the slave and for just a moment was afraid. They looked much alike, this slave and he. Eodearas reached for the power that should be there and felt a tremor of familiarity. Yes, there, buried beneath the rubble of the other’s life, of his scarred youth and ruined childhood, Eodearas could sense that which would be magic in his own world. He roared his victory, smashing the dreams, catching the slave’s mind and ensnaring it. He reached out to the knowledge that was buried in the slave’s mind and called it to him. 

Pain! Agony! What he called to him ripped and tore at his very being, bloodied him as he had not been in decades. Eodearas fought the power of the slave, knowing it for the instrument it was, for the cost it would tear from him every time he used it as long as the slave was also there. Finally, in fury, he slammed the other out of the body, shoving it as far along the golden thread that stretched through the barrier as he could. With the other gone, the body was his! He was victorious! The other world might not know that he had won, but he knew and this world would know! It would bow to Eodearas! It would bow before the might and magic of the world conqueror. They would weep at his feet, Strakerius would win!

Ed Straker, Commander in Chief of SHADO, huddled within himself and held onto the scream that threatened to rip out of him with all his might. Terror tore at him, pulling him into the maelstrom of panic all around him. He was … he was nowhere. He was cold and terrified and wanted nothing more than to find a warm dark place to hide. Only, he was afraid of warm dark places, especially small ones; and cold dark places. If he could just wake up. Please. Someone. Anyone. Let me wake up. He felt cheapened for begging, but there was nothing else he could do.

Or was there? Tentatively, he reached out, not quite understanding how, and found the warmth of the golden thread. It had to lead somewhere, didn’t it? Please? Without knowing what he did, Ed Straker followed the golden thread to a barrier. The barrier flared with energy, but there was a very, very small hole through which the golden glow went. Behind him was only cold and dark … that was gaining on him. The thread was disintegrating … he plunged forward, squeezing through the hole and then gaining speed as he rushed down the thread to … Pain!

Ed was in agony as he searched for a resting place within; a safe, dark, warm, welcoming place. Everything stopped and he fell exhausted into ebon velvet.


	4. Chapter 4

4 –

Days had passed since Eodearas was defeated and stripped of the power of Magekind. Merry and Gael had sent Jonara’s body on its final voyage. Their union was set for a month from now, allowing time for Merry to mourn her child, her marriage and whatever was worth mourning of her late husband. It also allowed for the bonds with Eodearas to be broken. While the physical bonds died when his power was stripped from him and bound away in the endless wastes, the legal ones still needed to be seen to. As his widow, she would be unable to marry again; her relationship with Gael would never be allowed and any children born of their relationship would be sacrificed immediately in the ancient ways. Bloodlines could not be broken save by a legal dissolution of the ties made. 

Merry stopped and stared at what remained of the most beautiful man the world had seen in long ages. Beauty and evil so often went hand in hand now. Jonara, their beautiful daughter, conceived in … in pain, delivered only to give him one more weapon, one more … death. Gods, how could she have been so blind? She knelt and wept for her shattered maidenhood, her daughter’s lost life, for all the evil wrought upon the world by this madman. So much power, so much …

Her attention was caught by a flicker near the body. Reveal. Yes, the line was disappearing. Merry smiled in gratitude. They could kill him! Finally, he would … knife in hand she hesitated as she felt life force pour into the body. No! Noooooo! She didn’t realize she had screamed out loud until Alaric and Gael came running to find her lying on the floor, sobbing, knife flung away and her left hand touching the warding symbol of Nordathmal. The symbol hung glowing between Merry and Eodearas. 

“ No,” she begged weakly of the universe at large. This could not be. Not even her husband could do this to her, to them, to all of them. She raised watery eyes to Gael and then Alaric. “He’s taken a slave,” she whispered, the dark misery of her soul stealing her voice. “He’s taken one of Them and sent It here.”

The two men stared at the symbol glowing gently in the air. Nordathmal, Guardian of the Barrier Between Worlds, guarded this body now. What would become of them when It awoke and found Itself here? They had no magic. They went mad when They came here and those on this side were forbidden to kill Them. Frag it.

Alaric looked to Gael and Merry. “I’ll deal with it. We keep It asleep. You get the legal done.” He hesitated over his next words, but what did he not deserve for his part in Eodearas’ plots? “I’ll kill It when you are truly mated.”

Merry’s mouth dropped open in shock. She pulled herself up, using Gael to support her and reached out to Alaric. “No,” she denied his words. “No.” Her voice shook, but she knew that as the Nightingale’s daughter, she could not allow him to make this sacrifice. “You cannot. You would not leave your women unprotected, or your son. We do not know that the doom would not fall on them also. So long has it been since one of Them met death at our hands, we do not know truly what will happen.” Her voice grew stronger as she thought things out. 

Gael held her tight but nodded his agreement. “You have no true mate,” he added in his gruff manner. “We may not have forgiven, but we cannot lose you. Shea and Heron will follow you, you know this. Until your truemate looses their binding, they live and die with you.”

Shea and Heron. True to his House, his companions were life bound to him until he found “her”. He snorted at that. The probability was that Eodearas had found “her” and eliminated the woman to keep Alaric at his side. Alaric’s people mated for life, when one died so did the other. They were a peaceful people; know for large families and long lives. How much of that had Eodearas changed? But, Gael and Merry were right. He owed the two women life, not death.

“We will leave It sleeping until we have made the arrangements we need to make. We will fast in a month. Then, we will allow It to waken and see what happens. Keep It safe until then. Make It a place that will be comfortable and allow It to … do whatever it will do.” Merry looked into Gael’s eyes to see if she was right. He smiled at her and she allowed him to fold her completely into his arms before he scooped her up and strode off with her.

Alaric looked at the body floating there. Was he still so attached he thought he saw serenity there? No. He fooled himself. He wanted Eodearas to be healed, to be whole as … as … as he never was. He turned away with a sigh. There was no serenity in the world now. It would come. But it was not here now.


	5. Chapter 5

5 –  
Eodearas prodded and pulled at the areas of the brain that held memory, looking at the slave body’s thoughts and beliefs; the things It believed of worth to remember. Long calculations held a large place, and the beauty of the world as seen from beyond it. These occupied much of the memory of the slave body. Other things were curious, but unimportant. Then Eodearas found concepts that bemused him. Vacation: time away from one’s work to do as one pleased. What kind of idiot idea was that? The strong always did as they wished, as they pleased. What else was there?

The slave body looked at the world through a broken mind. He worked to protect those who could not protect themselves from a threat that would cull the weak and leave those who were stronger. As Eodearas sifted through the memories of alien encounters and leavings he realized that even the strong could fall to these intruders. Interesting. The beings in Its nightmares were very strong, but uncommunicative. 

It was “on leave” for an undetermined number of days. That should give Eodearas enough time to find out if this world had forces he could channel as he believed, as he had felt while disposing of the slave body’s occupant. He searched the memories for a suitable site, finding several within easy reach of the cottage the man inhabited. Eodearas looked around and snorted his disdain for the place. The only touch he approved of was the incongruous white fur on the floor. It shimmered in the light as his hair did. His stomach grumbled with hunger which made him glare at the nearest servant … only there weren’t any. Well, he’d fended for himself before, he could do so now. Perhaps that “fast food restaurant” the slave body had visited …

>>>>

Ed Straker was peripherally conscious of cool air wafting over his body. It felt good although he was beginning to chill. With an effort of will, he opened his recalcitrant eyelids and blinked a couple of times at the view. Above him soared a high arched ceiling looking much like that of the only Gothic cathedral he could think of immediately. Tan stone carved into graceful curves that drew the eye upward to a point where he was somewhat surprised to find only a joining and not some fanciful but fervent carving. Sucking in a deep breath, he stretched luxuriously until at full extension it occurred to him that there wasn’t anything under him. Carefully, he returned to his initial position, tangling one hand in long pale threads. He yanked on the threads. Ouch. Apparently, they were attached to his head, just behind his left ear. 

Ed raised his hand to his head, then traced the hair back down to his hand. That was very long hair. At a guess, were he vertical and … he looked down the length of his body … yep, naked, the amount and length would probably keep him semi-decent. He turned his head from side to side. The pale hair floated around him and dropped down from the back of his head in a thick, straight curtain. 

He swallowed his fear and concentrated on getting vertical. Slowly, he rotated until he was upright. He was right about the hair. He slammed the lid on a hysterical giggle that rose when he dubbed it his “hair shirt”. Looking down now, he could see a worn floor of the same stone as the walls. Ed wasn’t happy that he was apparently hovering about five feet off that floor. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, or to at least find out if there was anyone here. In answer to that thought, a door opened and closed quietly behind him followed with what sounded like a low “Oh, shit!” from a man. 

Aliens didn’t make sounds like that, so maybe this wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. Solid footsteps came across the floor and then around him. Alec … no, not Alec. The hair was severely confined to the nape of the man’s neck instead of kept short and a fresh scar ran the length of the left side of his face. The clothing was all wrong also, although Ed could see his friend clad in such things in another time and place. Dark eyes searched Ed’s face for a moment, then the man who wasn’t Alec nodded and made an odd gesture coupled with a couple of harsh syllables. 

“Welcome to Aerix Pahl.” The words sounded odd, muffled. Ed realized the man spoke and a fraction of a second later he heard the words in English, but that was not what the man was speaking. 

“I’m Ed Straker. Where is Aerix Pahl?” he asked, more to buy time, than to get an answer.

“You are in the ancestral home of Eodearas Strakerius.” Again that odd double sound. Edaras Strakairius? Peculiar coincidence, that … or not. Ed frowned at the man who wasn’t Alec and felt great sorrow. Something twitched somewhere on the periphery of his consciousness. 

He looked down and then at … “Your name? Something to designate you other than “not Alec”?” Why had he said that? Yet the other man seemed struck by what he said.

“Not Alec,” Alaric repeated. “So there is a double of me over there, beyond the Barrier.”

Ed could hear the capital on the Barrier. “What Barrier?” He searched the other’s face for more knowledge, for some indication of his status here.

“I am … Alaric Freedman, Holder of the Great Key, last of the line of Marishktaph.” Might as well give him the whole thing and see what happened. There was no way It should be awake, yet it was. Death stared him in the face if this was a ruse by Eodearas.

“Alaric …” Ed repeated the name. So close, and yet so far; his own situation reflected in a name. “What Barrier?” he asked again, certain that this was something he needed to know.

“The Barrier Between Worlds,” Alaric answered, confused when the Other who bore a name so close to that of Eodearas showed no understanding. “It keeps your world and ours apart,” he explained as he became aware that he was no longer looking up. Ed had slowly drifted to the floor as they spoke. 

Ed was taken aback by the fear in Alaric’s gaze and looked around for the cause. Not seeing anything, he met that gaze again, curious. His feet were cold where they touched the floor. “Have I done something?”

Alaric stared at him for a moment in disbelief. The Other did not know, did not understand. He almost laughed as he realized Ed Straker knew nothing of magic; saw nothing odd in what he had done to break the bonds that had held him. There was no magic in the other world, or so the stories said. Often Alaric had thought that there was magic in all worlds but perhaps not the ability in men to see it. Then he realized he had worried Ed Straker with his reaction and he dissolved the spell that had held the Other . 

Ed nearly went to his knees as the spell dissipated. Without thinking, he threw out a hand to keep from falling. Alaric, responding only to the need, caught him. Dark eyes met blue. Alaric gave him a wry smile and brought the more sparely built man upright. Ed was right, the full length of hair was concealing. 

“Hungry?”

“Cold and … naked,” Ed shot back with a half smile of his own. 

“This way, Ed Straker.” Alaric led him out of the hall and down a corridor that was nearly as impressive in stonework. Instead of taking him to Eodearas’ quarters, he went to his own. Shea and Heron gasped and went wide-eyed as he ushered Ed in. “No fear,” he told them. “This is not Strakerius. “

“Not Strakerius,” Shea agreed. “Other.” 

Heron placed a hand on her shoulder. “Other is not evil,” she said quietly.

Ed had a hard time not staring at the two women. Both wore gowns of leather work that did little to conceal their beauty of body. That they closely resembled women he knew and worked with was a shock. He would have to work not to call them Ayshea and Joan. He nodded to them in what he hoped was courtesy here. 

Alaric worked hard not to show his shock. No one acknowledged his bonds like that. Shea and Heron were from lines of non-mages that had served his family for centuries. When lacking a truemate by maturity, the men of his family always took two or more such women to them. It was considered an honor by the families serving Alaric’s line; or so he had always thought. Eodearas’ fall had opened his eyes to the error of a lot of things he had once believed. 

“Shea and Heron, my … companions.” Did he catch the hesitation? If so, he said nothing, just waited patiently. “Bring clothing. Robes. Master Straker is cold.”

Heron regarded him obliquely. “Food? We were about to collect midday.”

“Yes.” Alaric frowned at her. Were the servants here so arrogant as to think themselves above serving his companions? 

Shea, coming back with robes caught his look. “My lord?”

“Not you. Why will the meal not be delivered?” he asked as gently as he could, taking the clothing from her arms.

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Would we trust those here to serve you?” she practically spat. “You are ours to care for, not some stranger.” The unaccustomed heat in her voice and stance startled him. 

“Then I thank you for your care of me, Shea,” he answered her as he helped Ed into a thin, soft under robe. He didn’t raise his eyes to hers. He needed some time to think through what he was hearing and feeling from his companions. He did meet Ed’s eyes for a moment and realized that perhaps robes were not what the Other was used to wearing. He settled the outer robe over Ed’s shoulders and stepped back. “You don’t wear robes?”

“No. Probably something closer to what you’re wearing,” Ed told him. “But this is much warmer than I was. Thank you.”

Thank you. Simple words, yet so seldom heard. He realized Shea and Heron had both stopped in the doorway and were staring at them.

Heron snorted. “That is definitely not Eodearas, not even with brain damage and no powers.” She looked to Alaric and her eyes became cloudy as though something filmed them. She stood, motionless for a few moments, blinked, shook her head to clear it and focused on the two men again. “Keep him safe,” she whispered before meeting Alaric’s gaze fully again. He could see she had paled beneath her golden skin. “Keep him safe or we will all fall.”

With that, the women left to collect the midday meal.

The men exchanged looks, neither knowing exactly what to think of what had just passed. “Sit,” Alaric told Ed and went to look for other clothing for the pale haired man.  
While Alaric rummaged, Ed took stock of his surroundings. The room was large, sleeping areas blocked off by thick woven hangings. The robes were masterpieces of the seamstress and weaver’s arts. The heavier outer robe was brocaded and embroidered, the cut somewhere between Asian and Western giving it fullness to allow movement; the sleeves fell to his fingertips and were lined with a soft napped fabric. He looked more closely and realized it was actually fur.

Brain damage and powerless, Ed mulled the terms over in his mind. Eodearas was some kind of power here, not just as in political or military but … he stumbled around that thought. Telepathy? Telekinisis? He forced his unruly thoughts into order. Psionics of some kind were at use here? Or was it the unthinkable, the stuff of fantasy? Was it magic?


	6. Chapter 6

6 –  
Eodearas found the phone book and surmising it was a repository of information, began to peruse it. That so many would allow their names to be written in a book in the keeping of his slave body made him think better of the fellow. Without magic in common use, such a guide was indispensable to be able to find those one wished to use. It took him a minute to figure out why some pages were white and some yellow. 

Swiftly, he looked up book houses and libraries for here he would find the tomes he sought, those that would tell him of magic in this world. He could feel the tingle of the power at the periphery of his consciousness, but the body he wore knew nothing of it or its manipulation. That thought produced a twinge again. Eodearas lay upon the couch, still in his body’s pajama bottoms, and concentrated. This slave knew something and was hiding it. Without the spirit that had been there to interfere, he sought out the stored memories that kept twitching when he thought on magic long enough.

With a wrenching feeling, he pulled forth the memories buried so deep the slave had forgotten them or believed he had. A small child watched in horror as his mother was slain. The knife in her assailant’s hand hesitated in mid-strike, as did the vituperation the man was pouring on the woman. He felt the tremor in the child as he tried to stop the death strike, not with his hands, but with his power. But he was young, no more than three or four and held no command of the ability. He failed to protect where he felt he should have. Hidden well by his mother, only able to peep through a small hole, he was not found by those who forced their way into their home.

Silent through the night, he wept openly only when his father returned to find his wife dead. The man hailed the child out of his hiding place and landed a ringing slap against the boy’s face, demanding to know what had happened and silencing the child’s apologies for not helping. The man was strong. Eodearas wondered how the slave could have become so enmeshed with helping those weaker when his father so obviously had the right ideas.

He snorted and released the memory. There must have been a woman to weaken him so. Well, no matter. The Other was now where the council would deal with him as Eodearas, destroying him and themselves in the process; while he, Eodearas, had a world to conquer.

The peal of the phone ringing broke into his thoughts. He knocked the thing away and was surprised to hear a voice from the receiver as it lay on the floor. Picking it up, he listened. 

“Ed? Ed, it’s Alec. Ed?”

“Yes?” His magic might still be bound from him, but this was Alaric’s voice and Alaric had been his to bend for so very long. 

“Are you all right?” The tinny but familiar voice asked; worry so close to the surface.

“Of course, Alec. I am … tired, but otherwise well. Is there a problem?” Best not to sound too eager. 

“No,” the answer came too swiftly. “No. Just … uhm … checking in. I was worried.” He tried to make it bluff and hearty, but the underlying concern was all too evident to Eodearas’ ears. 

“I think I was right about just being tired. Give it a couple of days and I’ll be back, unless you need me before that, of course. You know where to find me.” Just the right touch of selflessness, Eodearas thought. Apparently Alec thought so as well as he rang off with a quick good bye. “Good bye,” Eodearas echoed and replaced the receiver as he picked up the rest of the unit and set it back on the small table .

So, that was a communications device, was it? He picked up the phone book and browsed it again. A listing in the yellow pages caught his eye: ley line locater. What was a ley line? Why did the words draw him to them? There was a bank of numbers adjacent to the part of the device one spoke into and there were numbers next to or under the listings in the book. Curious, he pushed the numbers corresponding to the ones for the ley line locater.

Half an hour later, Eodearas was not only aware of hunger, but of a great deal about how the people regarded “magic” here. He dressed swiftly in one of the more elegant suits in the wardrobe, collected the keys and wallet that seemed so important and went out to regard the vehicle in the driveway with some ire. The door that should simply have opened at his presence didn’t. That meant he was going to have to prod the fool’s memories again. These, however, were not stored away, but close to the surface, more physical than mental. The key opened the door … Eodearas dodged the gull-wing door as it popped up. He refrained from shouting at the inanimate object, although he did scowl at it as he took the seat behind the wheel.

Why was there a wheel inside the vehicle? Oh, yes. Steering mechanism. He closed the door firmly, inserted the key and turned it. The noise of the engine was quite satisfying, but it didn’t move. Why? The gearing took a minute to recall, but as he relaxed, the body seemed to move smoothly of its own accord, the ingrained habits of driving surfacing and moving the vehicle onto and down the street with little issue. This constant checking of mirrors annoyed him, but it seemed natural to the state of “driving” so he put up with it. He even neatly negotiated finding the food place the slave had gone to the day before where he ordered as the slave had and received the food he desired. Eodearas might not have been as satisfied with himself had he realized the bill he used to pay for the food was far larger than necessary. 

The smell of cooked meat from the bag beguiled him until he found a place to park and eat. Finished, he tossed the debris on the floor of the passenger side of the car before taking off again. He had found a memory of a secluded wood, exactly the sort of place he needed for what he wanted to do now.

Eodearas was unaware of the vehicle following him, as he was unaware of the thoughts of the two agents watching Ed Straker. Grace had been with SHADO longer than her partner. She had watched the man who ran the organization for several years now and had a very bad feeling about what she was seeing. Ed Straker at McDonalds? That just hit all the wrong chords at once. And his driving; she’d seen him tool around in that elegant vehicle with far too much horsepower under the hood like it was a part of him.  
“There is something wrong,” she muttered for the fifteenth time in the last few hours.

Dwayne scowled at her. “What? You keep saying that, but we already know the boss thinks there’s something off.”

Grace took her eyes off the road long enough to glare at her partner. “McDonalds?” 

Dwayne shrugged his bulky shoulders. “Maybe he didn’t want to cook. I eat there when I don’t want to cook.”

“You’re a peasant,” she told him with a laugh. “I wouldn’t think Straker knew what a McDonald’s is. Unless the studio made a commercial about it. Where the hell is he going?” She slowed and took them off the main artery onto a side road. There was less traffic on the street, more likelihood that Straker would spot them. Just what she needed, a reaming out by the Commander and them by Jackson. 

Not normally nervous, Grace was not happy when Straker headed down a country road an hour later. They were well outside the city and not on her turf at all. “Dwayne, do you think he’s spotted us?”

The engine died, leaving the car stranded in the middle of the dirt lane.

Ahead of them, Eodearas parked his own vehicle and got out with a wolfish grin splitting his face. So, two little mice in a trap he’d not yet set. He reached out for the line of power he could feel surging beneath his feet. Yes, there it was. He summoned it to him and felt the barriers go down. Eyes blazing like beacons in the dark, he strolled back to the other car where two foolish humans would teach him what he needed to know about this world’s magic.

Grace, smashing out the window on her side of the car so she could get out, took one look at Straker’s face and screamed. As she felt the flow of something like static electricity around her, holding her captive and yanking her out the window, she knew the man she would have followed anywhere was not the one facing her. How had she even thought this was Commander Straker? It was so clear that the man wielding whatever power this was that bound her was not.

She struggled against the bonds she could feel but not see. He turned her so she could watch as he slowly took Dwayne apart, limb by limb and joint by joint until finally he ripped off the head, blood spurting everywhere, and left the torso lying on the bonnet of the car. Grace emptied her stomach somewhere during the proceedings, knowing that her fate would be so much worse.

>>>>

On the other side of the Barrier, Ed Straker screamed and curled into a ball at the torrent of pain that flowed through him. As the wall in his body’s mind had gone down letting the power flood through Eodearas, so the power that had been stripped from Eodearas seared him as it returned to the body it had left. Alaric and his ladies stared for a moment at the reaction, seeing the pale blue light around Ed Straker, yet not realizing what they were seeing.

“Magic!” Shea yelled over the rising tide of wind and loose power.

Alaric grabbed an ancient cloak from the wall and threw it over Ed. The wind faded as did the glow. Alaric looked ashen as he stared at the now unconscious Other. “There is no magic,” he barely mouthed, stunned. What would happen to them all now?


End file.
